


Unexpected

by Kantayra



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alien Biology, Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Other, Time Rams Are How TARDISes Have Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: Oh dear, it seems that the Doctor's TARDIS has knocked up the Master's TARDIS. See? This is what happens when you time-ram your TARDISes together all willy-nilly!The Master is not pleased. The Doctor is in denial. Jo is smitten, because baby TARDISes! And the poor, poor Brigadier...
Relationships: The Doctor's TARDIS/The Master's TARDIS, Third Doctor/The Master (Delgado)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Unexpected

It was a bright, sunny morning at UNIT HQ. The Doctor was sequestered at his worktable, fiddling with some contraption that involved an egg cup, an array of lasers, a tangled mess of wires and switches, and several volumes of Encyclopaedia Britannica to weigh down and/or prop up various wobbly components. Jo was reasonably certain that he was either trying to create a space-time fissure or else make breakfast. She was keeping a fire extinguisher close at hand in either case.

She herself had settled onto the far table – safely away from any impending explosions – and was working her way through the ten months of paperwork that the Doctor had blatantly failed to file. In short, it had the makings of a dull but beautiful day. Jo was planning to take a nice walk at lunchtime.

And then suddenly a “vworp vworp vworp” sounded behind them.

The Doctor dropped the device in his hands and spun around on his seat with practiced wariness. Jo rose from her chair and backed away to the far side of the Doctor’s worktable, as what appeared to be a computer station materialised against the windows, blocking most of the sunlight from outside. The facsimile faded in and out of existence twice before solidifying. Jo edged towards the panic button the Brigadier had insisted on installing, and the Doctor had likewise insisted was completely unnecessary.

No sooner had the second TARDIS fully landed than a side panel in the fake module opened, and the Master stormed out. Shoulders shaking with outrage and eyes dark and dangerous, he stalked right up to the Doctor and spat out, “ _You_!”

The Doctor’s eyes widened, and he gulped once before licking his lips. “I say, old chap, what’s up?” Surreptitiously, he waved Jo away from the panic button, as if he thought for some inexplicable reason that she shouldn’t call for back-up.

Jo’s hand wavered over the panic button. The Master was paying her no mind at the moment, instead glowering over where the Doctor sat, like a bull that was about to charge. Or, rather, glowering _at_. Jo had little doubt that the Master would very much like to glower over, but even with the Doctor sitting and the Master standing at his full height, they were more at a level than anything else. Jo felt the Master’s pain. She left the panic button unpressed, for now.

“‘What’s up?’!” the Master repeated in sputtered indignation. “Of all the careless, ignorant, imbecilic—!”

He really was off on quite a tirade. Jo didn’t think she’d ever seen him so agitated. His voice quivered with pent-up emotion, and he looked about ready to explode.

His litany of insults was cut off, rather comically, by a sudden high-pitched “vweep vweep vweep.”

The Doctor, who’d just opened his mouth to begin insulting back, froze at the sound, and his eyebrows shot clear up his forehead.

Jo turned back to look at the Master’s TARDIS and blinked in disbelief when, at one of the three monitor stations by the false super computer, a chair suddenly materialised. One last “vweep” and suddenly there was a second chair at the next station over, this one bright blue.

A pause.

“I-Is that…?” the Doctor gasped out in disbelief.

The Master’s brow furrowed with concern, and he held up one gloved hand to silence the Doctor.

Jo held her breath, and they all waited in absolute silence for a moment.

Then softly came a very weak “vwip-vwip.” The space by the empty third computer terminal seemed to twist and bend for one moment, and then it was normal space-time again. The Master’s TARDIS pulsed once with a soft white light and vworped encouragingly, and then a final quick squeaking “vwip!” sounded, and a third chair materialised next to the other two.

The Master’s face relaxed, and he let out a sigh of relief before turning back to berating the Doctor.

For once, however, Jo ignored them. Instead, she focused upon the third chair. It was only half the size of the other two, and it seemed to have gone a bit lopsided. Jo took a cautious step towards it, and indeed the legs on the right were shorter than the legs on the left. As Jo watched, it teetered and nearly fell over, but Jo lunged forwards in time and caught it.

The Master’s TARDIS flickered twice as if alarmed, but it settled when Jo just patted the little chair’s back once and supported it upright.

The Doctor had seemingly gone aghast. “I… What is… What have you… I can’t even…” he sputtered.

“I,” the Master said furiously and very deliberately, “have done nothing. This is all _your_ doing. And I expect you to take responsibility, for once in your lives!”

“Erm…well…” The Doctor scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

What with the Master’s raging and the Doctor’s incoherent fumbling, it didn’t seem like either of them were going to explain anytime in the near future. However, there were some phenomena so universal that Jo had a pretty good idea what was going on, no matter how alien the Doctor and his entourage could sometimes get.

“They’re _baby TARDISes_!” she squealed with delight, and scratched the littlest TARDISling right between the slats on its chair back. “Oh, you poor dear, are you the runt of the litter? Well, I think you’re absolutely precious!”

She didn’t think she imagined that it nuzzled back into her hand affectionately.

“Th-That’s impossible!” the Doctor insisted. “Who’s—?”

“—the father?” the Master finished for him testily. “Let us think about this very carefully, my dear. What TARDIS has been recently time-rammed into _my_ TARDIS, apparently without its idiot pilot ever having the sense to get it neutered first?”

“Oh, surely not!” The Doctor blanched, but he still turned back to look at his own blue box in sharp accusation. “Mine’s much better behaved than that!”

The Master snorted.

The Doctor’s TARDIS, Jo had to say, did not look particularly well-behaved at the moment. It seemed to be flickering ever so slightly, puffing itself in and out of existence just a bit, like it had an extra bit of strut in its dimensional circuits.

The Master’s TARDIS, across the room, hummed demurely.

No matter what the species, Jo recognised flirting when she saw it.

“—An entirely baseless accusation—”

Jo was dimly aware of the fact that the Doctor was arguing again, and the Master was shouting back at him, but for once they weren’t the most ridiculous aliens in the room, so she paid them no heed. Instead, as she watched, the Doctor’s TARDIS dematerialised all by itself from the far corner, and then appeared again an instant later right beside the Master’s TARDIS, abutting along one side. They tilted, ever so slightly, leaning into each other.

“Aw!” Jo clapped with delight. “That’s so sweet!” She gave the baby chair TARDIS a little hug, and it vwipped against her contentedly.

“Tell me again that yours isn’t the father,” the Master commented dryly, arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping impatiently, obviously enjoying his moment of triumph over the Doctor.

“That middle one _is_ blue.” Jo hated to go against the Doctor, but the Master did have a valid point. “Just like its father. Only, hang on: Doctor, I thought you said your TARDIS was a ‘she’?”

“It’s complicated,” the Doctor and the Master both said in perfect unison, and then glared at each other.

“Simultaneous hermaphroditism, perhaps,” Jo said thoughtfully. “I suppose that would make sense in a metamorphic species…”

The Doctor gaped at Jo for one moment.

Then Jo giggled as the littlest TARDIS wiggled from her grasp and proceeded to gallivant around the lab, tripping over its own chair legs from time to time, but growing surer with each step. It didn’t seem to realise yet that chairs didn’t normally walk on their legs, which Jo found rather endearing. “And this little one is a brave explorer. I can think of at least one TARDIS it might have inherited that from, can’t you?” The TARDIS scampered back to Jo proudly, and she chucked it under the seat. “Isn’t that right?” she cooed at it. “Who’s a good TARDIS? You are!”

The Doctor made a sour face and turned back to the Master, who was wearing an insufferable ‘I told you so’ expression. “Well, yes,” the Doctor finally admitted sheepishly. “I suppose the evidence does seem to be mounting in the direction of my TARDIS’ paternity, doesn’t it?”

“That wasn’t the only thing that was mounting!” the Master shot furiously back.

One of the larger chairs – the one which had materialised first – took that moment to take a tentative step towards the Doctor’s TARDIS. It wobbled on its legs for a moment, and then half-skipped half-fell into the Doctor’s TARDIS’ side. The door to the Doctor’s TARDIS opened and then caught the baby TARDIS between jamb and knob, steadying its offspring in a makeshift hug.

The Doctor deflated visibly at the obvious parent-child bond. “For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re correct,” he conceded as much as he ever did.

“And therefore you and your irresponsible machine _will_ be taking joint custody, won’t you?” the Master demanded stiffly.

“Joint custody?” The Doctor paled. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“Interrupt your busy schedule of dithering about Earth?” the Master retorted. “How do you think _I_ felt? I was at the final stages of conquering Omicron IX when suddenly _my time-ship went into labour_!” The Master’s face had flushed fully red at that last bit, the poor dear.

The Doctor winced. “Yes, well, I can see how that would be awkward…”

“Vortex plasma everywhere! I got it all over my suit during the delivery. The old senate wouldn’t stop laughing at me, even as I had them executed!” the Master bemoaned.

The middle baby TARDIS had taken it upon itself to protrude three scanner screens (also blue: perhaps it was stuck as that colour?) from its back and seemed to be using them as eyestalks, peering all around the Doctor’s laboratory. It seemed that none of the TARDISlings had quite worked out their chameleon circuits yet. Jo smiled brightly when one of the view screens slid over to examine her, and she held out her hand to it in offering. It leaned in close until it almost touched its scanner to her fingertips and then shied back away with a jerk, hobbling over to nestle against its mother warily. It still kept one of its scanners’ eyes on Jo, however.

“Oh, what a darling little thing!” she enthused. “So bright-eyed and curious!”

Jo gave the littlest TARDIS, which was still leaning against her, a pet along the edge of its seat, and it hummed in response.

The Doctor turned to look at Jo with a betrayed look upon his face. “Oh no…” he said in sudden realisation.

“Can’t we keep them, Doctor?” Jo asked hopefully. “Pretty please?” She didn’t like to use her puppy-dog eyes because they were really quite deadly, but this was clearly an emergency.

The Doctor’s resolve withered visibly in response to those eyes.

Behind the Doctor, the Master looked smug.

The Doctor must’ve had some sort of sixth sense about the Master’s smugness, because he muttered in irritation, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you, you despicable jackanapes? Made good and sure Jo was around for your little surprise announcement!”

The Master’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “Why, Doctor, I have no idea what you mean! Now, if you don’t mind, Omicron IX is in need of—”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Jo cut him off before he could so much as take a step towards his TARDIS. “You’re not going anywhere, Mister…erm…Master.”

Despite her hesitation at the end, the Master froze at the tone of her voice. It was ironic, really. All that ‘I am the Master’ nonsense, and he still didn’t know the correct tone of voice to _properly_ make the whole room obey him.

“I refuse to let you leave,” Jo insisted, hands on hips. The tiniest TARDISling rubbed against her leg affectionately, somewhat ruining her stern image, but it was more than good enough for these silly Time Lord types. “You are not breaking up this beautiful, loving family!” She gestured to where the Doctor’s and Master’s TARDISes were still snuggled up together behind her, doting upon their litter. “I know you’ve done some evil things in your time, but you just _wouldn’t_ be so cruel! And to your own TARDIS! I know you wouldn’t!” And then Jo turned her big, innocent puppy-dog eyes on the _Master_.

He staggered back until he collided with the edge of the Doctor’s worktable.

“Steady on, dear fellow,” the Doctor reassured him with knowing sympathy, and caught the Master’s arm to keep him from falling.

The Master coughed once pointedly and composed himself. “Be reasonable, Miss Grant,” he said smoothly. Jo knew that tone: it was the same slippery ‘I know best’ tone that the Doctor used when he wanted to wriggle out of paperwork. “I can hardly stay here. Your Brigadier would have an aneurysm. And I doubt the Doctor wants to become co-emperor of Omicron IX. Unless…” The Master trailed off and looked at the Doctor hopefully.

“I should say not!” the Doctor huffed.

The Master’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, well, that is where we stand. Seeing as neither of us can travel without our TARDIS, the situation is untenable, I’m afraid.”

“It absolutely is not!” Jo informed them, stamping her foot down. “Maybe it wasn’t worth it to you before, but now you’ve got the TARDISlings to think about—”

“TARDISlings?” the Master muttered.

“Don’t,” the Doctor advised him in a whisper out of the corner of his mouth. “You’ll just make her dig in deeper.”

Jo continued right over them. “—And you’re _both_ to blame! Maybe your TARDIS wasn’t neutered”—Jo poked a finger at the Doctor before turning to the Master—“but clearly yours wasn’t spayed, either! What did you two think would happen? Provoking each other all the time, a-and running off being renegades! Your poor TARDISes probably haven’t seen another of their kind in an age. Is it any wonder, after all the time they’ve spent together, that they fell in love?”

“Yes?” the Master whispered to the Doctor cautiously.

The Doctor shook his head. “Rhetorical in the other direction,” he warned and tried to hide it under a cough.

“So,” Jo concluded, “you’re both going to stay right here and own up to your obligations.”

The Master and the Doctor stared at her, cast a wary glance at each other, and both looked away immediately.

“Jo,” the Doctor said softly, “I know you mean well, but I really don’t see how there’s anyway this could possibly work with—”

“Well, I think it will work perfectly,” Jo insisted, “if you two would just stop being so stubborn for one minute. Really, it’s the best solution, I think. Doctor, you’re always going on about how to need a pretty scientist to help out with your experiments and tell you how brilliant you are—”

“He”—the Doctor pointed his thumb at the Master—“is not helping with my experiments! He’ll blow us all to kingdom come!”

“ _He_ ”—the Master pointed his thumb at the Doctor simultaneously—“is not brilliant in the slightest! It’s a miracle he hasn’t vaporised this entire lab yet!”

Jo beamed at them. “There! See? This will all work out splendidly!”

The Doctor let out a “bah!” of frustration and spun back around in his chair. He flicked on the switch of his contraption petulantly. “Breakfast?” he inquired as a begrudging sort of peace offering.

The Master’s eyes widened, and he swiftly yanked on the nearest power cord just as one of the circuits began sparking erratically, heading off the impending explosion neatly in its tracks.

The Doctor’s shoulders tensed, and he glared at the Master. The Master squared his own shoulders and glared back at the Doctor.

Yes, Jo thought, she couldn’t see any flaw in this plan at all. As she’d said before: No matter what the species, she knew flirting when she saw it.

“Now that that’s settled,” she said with finality, and took several steps back away from the TARDISling runt, “let’s practice your dematerialisation. You want to grow big and strong so that you can play with your siblings, right?” She knelt down and held out her arms. “Come on: teleport to me!”

The TARDISling vwipped happily and time-hopped over.

Epilogue

The Brigadier awoke with a sudden start. He blinked in the dark and took several deep, calming breaths. “Oh, thank heavens, just a nightmare…”

And then the emergency phone by his bedside rang.

With a sense of foreboding, he picked up the receiver. “Lethbridge-Stewart.”

“Sorry, sir,” Benton’s harried voice came across from the other end of the line, “I apologise for calling so late. But the Master’s brainwashed the entire night watch into TARDIS-sitting, and that little troublemaker – you know the one?”

“That blue devil?” the Brigadier asked warily.

“That’s the one,” Benton agreed, “has just rolled the entire landing pad back in time so that it’s all some great bog of primordial ooze. We’ve got a shipment scheduled in fifteen minutes.”

The Brigadier winced. “Blast it, man! Can’t the Doctor or the Master handle it?” he demanded.

“I tried,” Benton said, “but there were strange grunting sounds coming from the lab…”

“When are there ever not, these days? I thought I instructed you to remove all rapiers, sabres, epees, and bayonets from the base, post-haste.”

“I did, sir,” Benton promised. “They seem to have found something else to fight with. In particular, while I just happened to be outside the door – not eavesdropping on purpose at all, mind you…”

“Of course not.”

“…I may have heard the Master say something along the lines of ‘I’ll time-ram _you_ ’.”

Dead silence echoed over the phone line.

“Sir?” Benton finally asked warily.

The Brigadier coughed and composed himself. “Just to double-check: we have confirmed that Time Lords aren’t simultaneous hermaphrodites too, haven’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Apparently they’re bidirectional sex-changers instead. We’re safe until one of them regenerates into a woman.”

“Well, that’s a small comfort, at least,” the Brigadier said with a relieved sigh. “I’ll be right over. You go back to that lab, and break them up. Use a bucket of ice-water if you need to.”

“Yes, sir,” Benton said, voice gone all wispy and terrified.

The Brigadier knew that Benton would do it, though. His sergeant was incurably diligent like that. “Good man. We’ll get this all sorted. After all, I’m running a military base here, not a nursery!”

“Right, sir. Of course, sir!” Benton hung up.

Alas, the Brigadier was forced to concede, his nightmare had, indeed, become reality.

**Author's Note:**

> IDEK


End file.
